


The Supreme Stiles Stilinski

by TheBiPenguin



Series: AHS-Coven/Sterek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Demons, Healer Stiles, Hurt Derek, M/M, Witch Stiles Stilinski, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiPenguin/pseuds/TheBiPenguin
Summary: In every generation of witches, there is one whose power stands out among the rest. This individual is known as The Supreme.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles swung into the red brick driveway with a roar, cut off the engine and stepped out of his Ferrari onto the pavement, lowering his sunglasses onto his tanned face to shield them from the sun. Pressing the lock button absently, he surveyed his new home. 

It was a modest enough place, three bedrooms, built in colonial style with a long square lawn and big windows to light a few spacious rooms. It didn't need to be flashy, he'd be flying out to god knows where every month to deal with threats to coven safety or guide new coven leaders. It just needed to be comfortable enough for him to live in and big enough to host meeting of a dozen or so other members of the supernatural community he'd need to work with. 

Even so it was still...well, fancy. Stiles had never gotten used to the whole wealth thing. Selling the use their powers was the main source of income for a full time witch and the line of successive Supremes had accumulated quite a fortune over the years, each handing it down to their successor. Until a month ago Stiles had been living in an overly extravagant Georgian house in London, which he'd had no real affinity with, alongside the last Supreme, Annalie Leyton.

Now there was a Supreme. Annalie had been a fierce, stout woman. Born into an upper class family, she had held herself with a regal poise Stiles had long since given up on emulating. Her knowledge had been unparalleled, her coolness in crisis and confidence in her capabilities had made her a formidable and treasured leader. Hers were enormous shoes to be walking in. 

Those shoes, currently sharply pointed black leathers, tapped loudly on the path as he approached the house. Moving men were already there, carrying cardboard boxes in from a large van parked by the side of the road. He walked with a confidence he'd learned to feign well. In truth, without Annalie to act as his safety net, he felt like he was free falling, the enormity of his responsibility now resting entirely upon him alone. 

He was ready. Annalie had been sure that she'd taught him everything he would need to know to be a good Supreme, or else told him where he could research anything she'd missed. Stiles had drunk up her experience and knowledge with an unquenchable thirst, just as his body had drunk in her powers. The natural order of things was that as a new Supreme grew into adulthood, the old one faded. Not a moment of Annalie's decline had gone by where Stiles hadn't felt guilty, as though his body were murdering hers against his will. She'd had no such misgivings/ As Stiles grew in strength and ability she had smiled proudly at each milestone he passed, even as she became frailer. It was seared on his memory, how her hair had become wispy and white, her skin lax and her movements shaky and slow. Guilt was an amazing motivator and Stiles had it in spades. Some young Supremes basked in their perceived glory, while others rebelled against the responsibilities they’re forced to assume. Stiles had been determined to do justice, both to his people and to Annalie, from the start.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind and reminded himself again of her final words to him. He was ready. Returning to Beacon Hills wasn't a personal indulgence, he knew better than that. He needed a power base, to separate himself from Annalie's legacy and establish his own headquarters from which he would work. Beacon Hills was where his dad was, as well as his only friends, with whom he'd been diligent in maintaining relationships. He'd made few real friends in London, the focus had been on learning and he'd kept in contact with the friends he'd been forced to leave behind. 

On that front, a lot had changed. The last time Stiles had come home, Scott was still human, as were Lydia, Jackson and Erica, the last of whom he'd previously only had a nodding acquaintance with. Now, they were all pack mates, along with others Stiles was yet to meet in person. He'd met Isaac, Boyd and Allison on Skype enough times that he felt he knew them, but, they weren't the ones Stiles was worried about. 

The reappearance of the surviving Hales was not something he or Annalie had foreseen. Peter Hale was, by all accounts, barking mad in every sense of the phrase. He would be mistrusting at best and outright hostile and uncooperative at worst, luckily he wasn't going to be the one Stiles had to deal with. No, the man Stiles was yet to meet and would need to build a strong working relationship with was the new Alpha Hale, Derek. 

That was going to be no small feat. An Alpha wolf was not going to appreciate having the Supreme move into his territory, it was a blatant challenge to his right to control his borders, requiring Stiles' many powerful advisers to come and go freely and without Derek's knowledge or approval. To ask for such permissions would be an unacceptable act of submission. He and Derek would need to find a common ground, upon which they could work as independent equals within each other’s space. 

Even saying it was almost laughable. 

Ordinarily Stiles wouldn't have minded. Being Supreme wasn't about being liked, it was about competency. Yet, the thought of this Derek cutting him off from his only genuine friends made his stomach knot, Stiles knew some amazing people among the covens, but they would never be his friends. He was their leader, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year. They couldn't be allowed to see him for the ordinary, flawed young man he was. They needed to see him as a source of consistent stability upon which they could all rely. 

He threw his shades and car keys into a bowl on the table next to the double front doors and hung his smart, leather messenger bag on the coat hook before making his way through the unfurnished rooms to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. The journey from London had been extremely taxing, the heat and the flight draining his energy. He knew that his arrival would be noticed and he'd chosen to wear a white pressed shirt with practical, rolled up sleeves and trendy black lines along the button holes and breast pocket, tucked into smart-casual blue jeans. The air conditioning in the Ferrari was his saving grace from sweat patches and melted hair wax. He knew there were no other witches in town yet, but, he suspected that at least one of Derek's wolves would be watching for him and he didn't want to look dishevelled. 

He took greedy gulps of cool water from his glass, savouring the sensation of relief as it wetted his dry throat. He was tired and it was already gone two o'clock. He was due to see his dad at three until six for an early dinner and catch up before heading over to the Hale house to formally greet the Alpha Hale, to leave it any longer would be disrespectful. 

He wasn't really ready to confront that challenge, not that he had a choice, but, he was looking forward to seeing his dad and friends again. He blew out a sigh, rinsed his glass and headed back out to the car. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Derek was washing up after his late lunch when he heard the bang of the front door.

He didn't worry about it, doors in the Hale house saw more traffic than most major roads these days. He'd been immensely proud when the rebuild had been completed and he'd been able to move his new pack into their shared home. He'd had it built in the same style as the old house, but purposely chosen a completely different layout. He didn't want to live in a permanent reminder of what he'd lost.  

Not that he was in any danger of remembering such things right now. He was busy worrying about news of the approaching lone Alpha, a man named Deucalion. By all accounts he was a monstrous creature. Deaton had warned them that he'd just wiped out their nearest neighboring pack and was moving farther north still towards Beacon Hills. How Deucalion had killed an entire pack was a mystery, all Deaton had known was that people were calling him The Demon Alpha. 

That did not bode well. Werewolves might have enhanced physical abilities but magic was a weapon against which they had no defence. If Deucalion did have demonic powers that was near enough a death sentence for their little pack unless the new Supreme agreed to help them, which would be at no small cost to his time or powers. It gnawed at Derek's brain as he tried to think of another way to counter this completely alien threat and prayed that he wouldn't be forced to.

His thoughts were interrupted as Erica came bounding into the kitchen. "He's here!" 

Derek's heart nearly stopped. Deucalion's last reported sighting was over fifty miles away. Erica looked far from afraid, in fact, she looked delighted. 

"Stiles." she clarified. Derek exhaled loudly. 

"Is he?" He leaned against the counter casually. 

Erica nodded enthusiastically, her golden curls dancing about her brilliant smile. "Moving van's out the front, Ferrari parked in the drive." She made an impressed bob of her eyebrows. "You know, he's even cuter in person, all dressed in fancy brands and everything." 

"Is he?" Derek smiled indulgently, although he hardly felt this was the information about the new Supreme he'd sent her for. He'd seen photos of Stiles before, snaps he sent Scott, Lydia and the others or magazine shots of him at various events, always hovering at Annalie's shoulder, diligently learning his craft. He was cute, Erica was right about that, but, it was his demeanour that Derek needed to know about. Was he confrontational or permissive? Was he superior or respectful? These were all questions Derek would need answers to if he was going to negotiate the boy, or rather man now, into helping them, given they had nothing other than their friendship and use of their physical strength to offer in return. The wealth and power didn't really tell Derek whether or not Stiles would help them, only that he could. He already had so many people to take care of and he was only eighteen. 

"What's he like?" 

"I just said, he's cute." She smirked at him mischievously. He sighed heavily.

"Was he barking orders at the removal guys?" he prompted. 

She laughed, flashing neat rows of sharp, white teeth. "No, when I walked by he was bringing out jugs of water for them, it's damn hot today in case you haven't noticed." 

The rest of the pack seemed to already like and trust Stiles, Derek knew that. They'd all met him over Skype through Scott and Lydia. Derek had respectfully declined each time and asked Scott to tell him Derek was looking forward to meeting him properly when he next visited Beacon Hills. Skype was way too informal for an Alpha and a Supreme to make their first contact over, but more importantly, Skype was how Stiles contacted his friends. It was a time when he could be unfiltered and unburdened of his official responsibilities and Derek didn't want to taint that. 

He hadn't really counted on their first meeting being when Stiles decided to move permanently back home and when Derek was going to need to ask him for a massive favor. Neither of those things were going to reflect particularly well on him. It didn't matter, he’d just have to make it work. Peter had called Stiles' decision to move into their territory a disaster and tried to convince Scott to talk him out of it or Derek to somehow force him away. Neither had agreed and Derek was optimistic about Stiles' effect on the town. It had been a rough couple of years, supernaturally speaking and the presence of a powerful ally would help discourage potential attackers. 

"So he was looking out for their wellbeing." Derek nodded thoughtfully, "That's a positive sign." 

Erica rolled her eyes dramatically. "I told you. He's lovely. He's Scott's best friend and he's a puppy for crying out loud." 

"He was also Lydia's friend and she can be like ice." He reminded her. 

It was at that moment the ice queen and her own best friend decided to make their entrance, their arms heavily laden with shopping bags. 

"Hey." Allison chirped, her big, brown eyes falling instantly on Erica. "You're back." The girls laid the bags on the floor and Erica began snooping through them, admiring the many fashion choices they'd made. 

"Yeah, he arrived an hour or so ago." she replied absently. 

Lydia smiled, her bright red lips stretching with genuine joy. "When's he coming over?" 

"Professionally first, I hope." Derek interrupted, a slight panic stirring in him. "You've not invited the Supreme for pizza and movies before I've even met him, have you?" 

"Of course not." Allison scoffed. "Relax. He's not some hell raising, demon lord. He's really friendly. Honestly, Derek, you'll love him. But yes, he insisted he meet you officially first. He told Scott he's planning to come tonight after dinner with his dad." 

Derek nodded his approval and went to retrieve his phone from the lounge, he wanted the whole pack here tonight. If Stiles was making his official visit, he ought to make an effort for them all to be here to welcome him. 

Most replied with just a thumbs up. Jackson's  **Awesome, can't wait** was uncharacteristically cheery. Derek wondered if it was sarcasm or if Stiles genuinely had this effect on people. Isaac was pretty excited too, but, Scott's reply was by far the longest and quickest. 

**GREAT :D You don't have to roll out the red carpet though, dude. He wouldn't like that. But, he will like you, I'm telling you, you're totally his type haha**

Derek couldn't tell if his betas were teasing him about being Stiles' type, but, they'd said it enough times now to make Derek feel seriously awkward. He didn't want the Supreme to think he was trying to hit on him. Seduction was a cheap trick and like all handsome and powerful people, Stiles would have encountered it plenty of times already. 

Still unsure, he decided not to reply and pocketed his phone before heading to the shops. They still needed groceries and sitting around the house all afternoon worrying wasn't going to help. 

Sitting behind the wheel in his Camero, Derek felt suddenly more in control, his back braced by the comfortably worn in leather and the wheel and gear stick familiar in his grasp. He hoped the steadiness the routine sensations brought him as he spun onto the road into town would last him through until tonight. His nerves were frayed. 

He blew out a long breath, he'd fought hunters and other Alphas, yet, this eighteen year old boy was making his hands shake and he wasn't even an enemy. It was ridiculous. 

Derek laughed at himself out loud as he shifted gear and gained speed, testing his enhanced reflexes and giving himself a well needed, adrenaline based confidence booster


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner with his dad was great. 

Stiles had almost forgotten how much he'd missed his old man. The two years since they'd been face to face had aged the Sheriff. Stiles hadn't been happy to leave him behind less than five years after his mother’s death. He was an overly protective son, texting every day and sending money to make sure his dad had minimum stress, well as minimum as possible for a sheriff. 

But, none of it compared to being with his dad in person. The sheriff's face might have more wrinkles than Stiles remembered, but, the man behind the eyes was still the same. The two men had squeezed each other hard when they'd met outside their old family home, his dad had lost none of his strength. That embrace had been more relief to Stiles than anything the last two years had brought him. 

He was home. He had his dad by his side again where he knew he was safe and he was back in Beacon Hills, on his own turf. It made him feel stronger than he'd ever felt in London. It made him feel whole. It was exactly what he needed to make his launch as the new supreme. 

It was with a far more genuine confidence that he pulled up between Jackson's Porsche and a black Camero outside the new Hale house. It was an impressive build, buried deep in the preserve. It was over three times the size of the home Stiles had bought, clearly designed to house the entire present pack comfortably and factor in any new mates and cubs in the future. It was very impressive. 

Stiles trod carefully on the unpaved ground as he approached. Until this moment he hadn't really considered the paradox of the situation. Now, it was glaringly obvious. He wanted to be Stiles, like Scott and Stiles, Stiles. He wanted to jump up and down and talk endlessly about everything that had happened while they'd been apart, he wanted to meet this incredible Allison girl and talk about his new job at the vet's clinic and ask Lydia about college applications and engagement plans with Jackson. 

But, he couldn't. At least not yet. He was here to make a positive impression on the Alpha Hale. His reunion with his friends would need to be a controlled one if that was going to be possible. 

He took a deep, steadying breath and squared his shoulders before knocking. He knew that they had heard his arrival, could probably hear his thumping heart from inside, but, manners and all. The days of having a front door key to Scott and Lydia's parent's homes were gone now, this was Derek's house and Stiles needed to be respectful. 

But, it wasn't Derek who opened the door. 

Scott flew out the dark opening into the sun, flinging his arms around Stiles' neck and nearly throwing him to the ground. Stiles wrapped his thinner arms around his shoulders and squeezed. 

"It's so good to see you man!" Scott relinquished his hold and stepped back, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. Lydia stepped forward and pecked him on the cheek. She was taller than Stiles remembered and both of them looked stronger and healthier than he'd ever seen them. They looked really well, Stiles was thrilled for them, if not also a little envious. 

"It's great to see you guys too." He beamed as he was shown inside. 

The interior of the house was equally magnificent. Large chandeliers hung from high ceilings over authentic looking hardwood floors and furniture. The wide staircase opposite the front door was adorned with a bright red carpet and dark wooden banisters. It portrayed the image of established strength and authenticity mixed with expensive modernization. 

He saw faces he knew from his Skype conversations. He recognized Isaac's puppy dog eyes and Boyd's strong facial bones. They all greeted him enthusiastically. Jackson looked the same, if not a little mellower, he was smiling as though he was genuinely happy to see him. He grasped Stiles in a strong man-hug, patting him heavily on the back. Clearly there were no clique boundaries between their adult selves, which was nice.

Erica looked positively radiant, she'd been a sickly teenager pre-bite but now she was the picture of feminine athleticism. Her long, blonde curls hung down as far as the join between her plump chest and toned abdomen. She was stunning. 

Scott grinned like a love drunk school boy when he introduced him to the renowned Allison. She was truly very pretty, with long, dark hair and pale, unblemished skin. She wore dark, close fitting clothes which flattered her slender frame. Her toothy smile held a warmth to it which made her instantly trustworthy, as though Stiles was already one of her closest friends. Stiles saw immediately what Scott and Lydia liked so much about her. 

A gruff, older man stepped forward. Lydia had told Stiles that Derek was handsome and in his mid-twenties. That made this ageing piece of gristle his uncle Peter. Stiles had heard a number of unsettling stories about the man who was now gripping his hand in a tight shake. 

"Peter Hale." He confirmed. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Stilinski." His smile was wicked, like Stiles was a mouse he was trying to toy with. If that was his intention, it wasn't really working. Stiles thought he looked like he had gas. 

"And you." he reciprocated a little coolly. Peter stepped to one side, parting the pack to reveal their final member, stood silently at the back.

"And this is our Alpha, my nephew, Derek." 

Stiles' hand was released as he stepped forwards to greet the Alpha Hale. He was taller than Stiles by about half a head. His sharp, stubbled features wore a strained expression Stiles could have easily mistaken for hostility. He was built with the same dense muscle but his dark eyes held an intensity the rest of the pack lacked. Lydia had been right when she'd called him handsome. 

"Alpha Hale." Stiles held out his hand, consciously smiling without baring his teeth and keep his chin lifted so it wouldn't look as though he was shielding his neck. He knew some things about werewolf customs. Derek's returning smile looked pained, but, he took Stiles' hand and shook it firmly. 

"Please, call me Derek." His voice was deep, but gentle. 

"Derek." Stiles echoed. Derek pulled his arm, bringing them together. Moving his hands to the sides of Stiles' head he pressed a kiss to his right brow. Stiles was more than a little reassured that the Alpha had taken the time to research how witches greeted each other. As his hands fell away Stiles lifted his to Derek's face and reciprocated. 

When they parted, Derek looked a lot more relaxed. They stood smiling at each other for a moment, not really sure what to say next, when Lydia stepped up next to him, linking their arms. 

"Come on." She chirped. "Let's go sit down and get a drink. I want to hear all about London, I'm thinking of visiting for Christmas." 

Stiles laughed. "You'd love it." She assured her. She would, Lydia had a far more cosmopolitan mentality than Stiles. She'd thrive in Europe. "The Christmas lights in the city are very beautiful. Be sure to pay Harrods a visit." 

"Oh, they plan to." Jackson laughed as they made their way deeper into the house. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek didn't do a whole lot of talking. Stiles had kind of expected the Alpha to direct the conversation. Apparently Derek was quite a permissive leader.

He sat back in his armchair, opposite Stiles but choosing to let the rest of the pack take the lead. It was very casual, not at all the formal meeting Stiles had been bracing himself for. They'd spoken about their parents, plans for college or work, how they'd each become a part of the new Hale pack. That had lead onto the story of Derek's return. Still Derek didn't speak. He thanked Stiles for his condolences and compliments on his resilience. Stiles truly was impressed that Derek had come so far, even enough to welcome the last surviving Argent into his pack. It was a testament to his strength of character. Stiles admired that in a person. 

He admired Derek a hell of a lot the more he heard about him. In all honesty he was a little bit in awe of the man, only six years his senior, to have achieved so much. Stiles only hoped that Derek wouldn't use his experience to undermine him. He didn't think he would. 

"So, Stiles." Derek finally spoke, when all other sources of conversation seemed exhausted. "What brought you back from London? I'm sorry that we've not met before but I kind of assumed that you'd be taking residence somewhere better...connected." He sat forward, trying to keep his expression open. This wasn't a cross examination after all. 

Stiles sighed before answering. "It was professional, I'm afraid." He squeezed Scott's forearm reassuringly "Although it is great to be back. Communications are strong enough that I can work from just about anywhere, work is kind of global for me so it doesn't make much difference." Derek didn't understand why Stiles looked suddenly sad until he continued. 

"The coven I initially started my training with, led by Sarah Wheeler. You remember her?" Derek had never heard the name but both Lydia and Scott nodded, their faces crossed with concern. "Well their coven was killed a few weeks ago by a demon named Deucalion. Men, women and children. As Supreme I can't let that slide. I'm setting up HQ here to make a statement. Deucalion is hated and feared throughout the supernatural community and I intend to build the foundation for my leadership on his grave." 

Derek didn't know what to say. It looked like he wasn't going to need to ask Stiles for any favors after all. Luckily, Lydia still had command of her voice. 

"Any idea how to do that?" she looked worried. Derek hadn't really explained to full threat Deucalion posed to them, he'd wanted to wait and see whether or not Stiles would help them before he put fears into his pack mates. Secretly, he was massively relieved. 

A smirk played across Stiles' boyish features. "I'm thinking that brute force will make the biggest statement." 

"If there's anything we can do to help." Derek forced his tongue to work for him again. "Don't hesitate to ask. Deucalion has done terrible things to our people as well." 

Stiles met his gaze and held it. That connection conveyed more than any look Derek had ever shared with a non-wolf. Stiles' large amber eyes spoke not only of a young man facing a life threatening foe who appreciated having his friends by his side, but also of a leader. Derek saw reflected in the eyes of the young Supreme the grief he too had felt at the deaths of people whom he was charged to protect. It was a look both of sorrow and iron determination. 

"Thank you, Derek." he spoke slowly, his soft voice infused with sincerity. 

Deucalion was powerful, for sure, but, looking into those eyes, Derek didn't think he stood a chance. The survival of his pack was secured in that gaze and Derek trusted it completely. 

It seemed strange, he supposed, that he the older, faster, stronger, Alpha wolf was having to place his faith in this thin, fresh faced boy. It felt wrong. A part of him wanted to immediately bring Stiles into his pack. He was close friends with his pack mates and just as he'd made sure all of their families were taken good care of, he wanted to take care of Stiles as well. 

He'd kept a close eye on the sheriff, going with Scott to help out with house maintenance, grocery shopping and anything else Melissa thought he needed. He and the sheriff were on very good terms. It had helped keep their pack safe and unexposed to the human townsfolk. Stiles would no doubt value the same discretion. Exposure of the supernatural world to mortals was never a path that lead anywhere good, it was, after all, how the hunters came into being.

 The doorbell rang. The pack had indeed ordered pizzas, even though Derek had warned not to. 


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Stiles sat in a tedious meeting around his new dining room. 

The sun was glorious outside, luckily the house came with good air conditioning, but, that didn't make him any keener to be stuck indoors. It made his mood sour. He sat in one of the high backed chairs around the long wooden table listening to his advisers speak about reports received from the various covens across the world. 

Each week, the coven leaders submitted a form via fire message to Stiles' official office. Each was sifted through by an adviser who spoke the language, then translated into English and filed. Any red flags were submitted to the senior adviser in charge of that country. Anything they couldn't handle was submitted to Stiles for evaluation with his inner circle. 

It was a brutally efficient system, deviance from which was strictly punished. Annalie had removed a number of coven leaders over the years for failure to submit their paper works. Such bureaucracies were the Supreme's only way to watch over all of their charges. It was a hopeless task otherwise. The vast majority of what Stiles heard was about potential threats. He didn't often fly out to them but rather authorized and arranged for a support team of dedicated witches to help resolve the problem in his name. 

This was where he was at now. A Coven based in an obscure town in France he'd never heard of were faced with a team of hunters beyond their power to defend against and needed reinforcement. Another in Singapore were having issues with a young witch with powers the coven leader seemed unable to teach her to control and needed a more practiced instructor. 

It was all incredibly dull, but, it all needed Stiles' approval, just in case. The only real thing he had to deal with himself was Deucalion and he desperately wanted to get ahead with planning how he was going to do that. Every day a report arrived detailing his last sighting, how far and fast he was travelling, potential destinations and objective, risks he posed and damage he'd done since the day before as well as whatever crumbs of insight his diviners could come up with about his next move. 

Today's report was sat on the table in front of him, but, he was yet to be left alone to read it. All over the rest of the house, his operations workers were running around, setting up surveillance crystals and perimeter charms around the town. It was a massive setup, but necessary. Stiles had been largely leaving them to it and listening about a coven in Brazil whose leader had suffered a heart attack and needed an experienced healer. When eventually the meeting ended his inner circle, which consisted of his oldest and most accomplished witches, fossils many of them, he rubbed his tired eyes and flipped open the file in front of him. 

Deucalion was predicted to reach Beacon Hills from the south west side the night after this. Fortunately, there were no people between there and here for him to pose any threat to. Stiles was relieved by that, he'd privately vowed that he would take the fight to Deucalion if he needed to if it helped to avoid civilian casualties. He was relieved that he wouldn't need to. Deucalion would approach the town through the preserve, passed the Hale house.

That struck Stiles as odd. If he were going to attack the town, he'd have tracked a little further west and followed the main road straight into the town's heart where the population was densest. Stiles frowned at the black and white page for a long while before it dawned on him. Deucalion was half demon, but, he was also half wolf. He wasn't coming here to kill humans or witches, they were collateral damage. 

He was here for the Hales. 

Stiles began to see a plan forming in his mind, he pulled out his phone and punched in the number of the man he'd put in charge of setting up his infrastructure around the town. He needed to preserve left alone until after Deucalion arrived. 

The Demon Alpha knew he was coming here to face Derek. He didn't know anything about Stiles, probably didn't even know he'd left London yet. Stiles wanted to keep it that way. 

He needed to speak to Derek.

 -------------------------------------------------------

Stiles' head buzzed with a million and one rapid thoughts as he drove to the Hale house. All of them were forgotten when the house came into view. A police cruiser was parked out the front, its’ owners emerging from the front door. 

They weren't particularly imposing officers. Stiles didn't recognize them, which meant they'd been on the job less than two years. He'd met everyone during his last visit. The two young men looked strained as they frog marched a stoic Derek from the house in handcuffs. It was the middle of the day and most of the pack were out, but, Peter, Scott, Isaac and Lydia were stood on the porch, looking after the Alpha helplessly. Fighting back meant exposure. It wasn't a tactic they could afford to use, but, losing their Alpha right before Deucalion's attack would be equally disastrous. 

Stiles pulled up between the cruiser and the approaching officers, blocking their path. He gave Derek's wide eyes barely a moment’s notice as he stepped from the car to confront the trio. 

"Sir," The officer on the left was younger and thinner than his partner. His voice wobbled ever so slightly, Stiles noticed. "Move your car." 

Stiles smiled, walking right up in front of the trio. He held up one hand between them and snapped his fingers, giving off a loud crack and a spark. The officer went rigid for a moment before relaxing into a neutral stance, his hands falling from Derek's arm. 

Derek looked confused. "What the-" He turned to the older officer. Far from looking relaxed, the man was shaking, as though trying to strain against some invisible force, His expression was vacant. His mouth hung open and drool was beginning to run down his chin. His knuckles were white as his fingers dug into Derek's bicep. 

Stiles stepped across to face the man. "Ooh. We've got a fighter." He winked at Derek. "I'm barely flexing dude. Now in about ten seconds, I'm gonna turn up the heat inside that melon of yours and turn your brains to scrambled eggs. But, it's been a long day and I'd rather not work up a sweat." He put his hands on the man's cheeks "So. Let. Me. In." He blew a long breath of blue tinged air into the man's mouth and he joined his partner in relaxed stupor. Derek still looked amazed, almost as slack jawed at the officers. 

"Thank you." Stiles stepped back. "Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to uncuff Mr Hale here, I need him." The younger officer produced a key from his pocket and removed the cuffs from Derek's wrists without comment. "I don't know why you came here, but, you didn't find anything suspicious and you won't investigate the residents of his house. Is that understood?" 

"Yes, sir." They chorused. 

"Good." Stiles stepped out of their way. "Go." The two men walked mechanically around the Ferrari and climbed into the cruiser without speaking. Once they were out of sight, Stiles turned back to Derek. 

"How-How the hell did you-?" Derek's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Stiles laughed and punched him on the shoulder weakly. That had taken more energy than he'd expected. That old guy had been strong. 

"Trade secret." He winked. "What did they want?" 

Derek huffed. "Some guy made a complaint that a dog attacked his kid. Horrible actually. But, someone apparently reported seeing a large dog off the lead in the preserve near here. They didn't believe we weren't the owners." 

"Large dog." Stiles smirked. Derek did not look amused. 

"Yeah, I think one of us must've been spotted." 

Stiles laughed out loud, harder this time. He took Derek's arm and turned him around to walk back towards the house, giving his thick bicep a friendly squeeze. "I'll get someone to pay the kid a visit to make sure he heals okay and ask dad to shred that reported sighting." 

"Thanks." Derek was still tense, but the gratitude was evident. 

"Or." Stiles winked at the four dumbstruck wolves on the house's front porch. "I'm gonna have to start putting you lot on a collar and lead." 

Isaac looked afraid, Peter more annoyed. Scott and Lydia barked out in laughter, which seemed aimed entirely at Derek. Stiles didn't follow, but, Derek's cheeks had flushed crimson, he looked mortified. Clearly there was some in joke about Derek, collars and leads which he wasn't privy to. He decided to ignore it and pulled Derek up the steps into the house. 

"Come on, Derek. Like I said, I need you for something." 

There were suspiciously raised eyebrows between the betas as Stiles led Derek back inside. He smirked wickedly. Derek's muscles were clearly visible beneath his tight T shirt and there was no way he'd not caught Stiles admiring them. He was having more than a little fun flexing his own supernatural firepower in front of the herculean alpha.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek smelled the change immediately. 

The rest of the pack were still out at school or work. He was the only one at home, even Peter had gone into town for groceries. 

The usual delicate balance of scents within the house had been completely derailed and an acrid waft of something unfamiliar and hostile was permeating the air. 

He got up from the sofa, turning down corner of the page on the book he'd been reading with shaky hands and laying it down on the coffee table. Slowly, he turned and walked across the lounge into the hall. The stench intensified. It was like congealed blood and sweat and something intensely sour. 

The front door hung open, swinging gently on its' hinges. Derek closed it softly before turning to the heavy set figure stood at the foot of the wide staircase. Deucalion was a ragged looking man in his late thirties. He was hirsute and hulking, his thickly muscled arms hung away from his barrel shaped torso. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, the look in them made Derek want to shift and run as fast as he could. 

He did neither. He held his ground, a man and nothing more against this savage creature. 

"Derek Hale," Deucalion took one swaggering step forwards, Derek resisted the urge to mirror him and step away. The Demon Alpha gave him a wicked smirk "Another puppy playing at Alphas, let me show what a real Alpha can do. You're going to join the rest of your pack. Ready to die, little wolf?" 

"Are you?" 

Deucalion froze, uncertainty crossing his scarred face as he half turned from Derek to face this new aggressor. At the top of the staircase stood Stiles. As he descended the first few steps at a deliberate pace, the Demon Alpha sized up Stiles' slender frame and soft skin. 

"Well, well. Got yourself a little bite of sweet meat, have you, Alpha Hale?" Stiles frowned in mild confusion.

"Don't worry. I'm happy to kill you both." He took a step up towards Stiles. Derek gave a deep growl are matched his pace, narrowing the gaps between the three men. 

Stiles stood perfectly still, his mocking smile didn't reach his eyes. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" his voice was like ice.

Deucalion shrugged and continued his advance up the stairs towards him. "Little Derek's bitch?" 

Stiles frowned again, where the hell was he getting this stuff? "Not quite." He winked playfully. Once again, uncertainty crossed Deucalion's coarse features. 

From the bottom of the stairs, Derek leaped, eyes flashing red and claws bared. Deucalion spun, catching Derek's wrist as his swung at his head. With extraordinary speed, his own fist collided with the underside of Derek's jaw, sending spurts of blood arcing across the hall and the young alpha's head snapped back and he fell. 

Stiles' breath froze in his chest as he watched Derek's limp form tumbled to a halt and lie in a tangled heap. He didn't hesitate. As Deucalion turned to face him once more he seized the brief moment Derek had bought him, As the Demon Alpha's bloodied claws raised again, Stiles slashed his athame across the man's forearm. 

A loud hiss filled the air, along with the smell of seared flesh. Deucalion howled in pain, stumbling backwards and holding his opened forearm before him. The exposed flesh was blackened and rotting. It already smelled of decay, of death. The veins in his arm looked like thin, black vipers slithering towards his heart. 

"What-?!" Deucalion's roar was tinged with fear. Stiles held up the blade, the Demon's blood still steaming of it. 

"You don't mess with the Supreme, little wolf." He drawled, a smug grin playing on his lips. 

Deucalion tried to shift again, to access his demonic strength, The red light died in his eyes, Stiles' curse latching onto his wolf and stealing the energy his body was pouring into it as it tried to fight its' way to the surface. Deucalion fell to his knees, leaning heavily on his hands. He glowered up at Stiles, hatred burning in his face, fangs bared. 

Stiles stepped down to him and knelt so they were face to face. The Demon Alpha panted with exertion as his body tried to fight of the poison in his veins, which were bulging and black in his neck as well, now. 

"You think you're so clever, witch." He snarled. "He's no different to me." Stiles' eyes followed the jerk of the Demon's head to where Derek was still lying. He wasn't moving. Stiles' scent must've shifted with concern, because Deucalion huffed a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, a weak smirk crossing his pale lips. 

"You two might stink of the mate-spark but you're no wolf. He'll chew your soft, weak little body to shreds and spit your bones out when he's done with you, you stupid little bitch." 

"You're wrong." Stiles answered simply. 

Deucalion's breathing turned into a harsh rattle, his arms shook as his strength failed and his body lowered to the floor, where the rattle ceased. 

 

Stiles jumped over the shrivelling form of the fallen demon and crouched over Derek's blood soaked form. 

It took all his strength to roll Derek onto his back, his neck was torn open, blood covering his skin, clothes, and the floor. It was everywhere. Stiles pressed his hand to the gash and sealed it with a simple spell. Derek was pale, very pale. Most of his blood now lay on the ground and his body's supernatural healing was fighting to replace it as his starved organs began to fail. 

"C'mon, Derek." Stiles lifted his head into his lap, clapping his cheek with his bloody hand "Come back to me, buddy, C'mon." His voice had taken on a pleading tone he'd not heard before. He felt like a little boy. A helpless little boy who was going to sit and watch his friend die. 

"What happened?!" Lydia threw her bag on the ground and crossed the hall to where Derek laid as fast as her high heels would allow her to, leaving the front door swinging open. 

"Help me lift him onto the sofa." Stiles responded. They swung one of Derek's arms over each of their shoulders and laid him supine on the cushions. 

"What happened?" She repeated.

Stiles shook his head jerkily. "The Demon Alpha. He's lost a lot of blood." 

"Okay, what do we do? Stiles, think! He's lost a lot of blood. You've closed the wound but he's dying faster than he's healing, how do we-" she snapped her head back to Derek, fiery curls flying.

"Stiles. He's not breathing!" 

He leaned down to hover over him. She was right.

He parted Derek's lips and blew a long, slow breath into his open mouth. Derek's whole body heaved as Stiles' breath expanded in his chest, sparking his heart and lungs back into action. Derek spluttered and heaved in deep, ragged breaths, his soul shoved roughly back into his still deteriorating body. He wasn't strong enough, didn't have the energy to give Derek to bolster the healing mechanisms and put them ahead of his blood loss.

"The athame." He turned to Lydia's confused expression. "Swap the killing curse for a healing charm and put Deucalion's energy back into Derek." 

"Is that safe?" 

"Doubt it. You got any other ideas?" She shook her head, mutely. Pushing himself up from the sofa, he ran from the room, snatching the bloodied athame from where it lay next to the decaying demon. 

Lydia watched in equal fascination and horror as Stiles stripped away the layers of malevolent incantations and replaced them with benevolent equivalents. Derek's breathing was becoming shallower, threatening to exhale his soul into the void again. Stiles definitely didn't have the strength to pull him back twice. 

He flipped Derek's hand so his forearm was facing up in his lap. Laying the blade as flat as possible he held Derek's hand still as he drove its' point into his wrist and slid it up his arm beneath his skin. Derek didn't even flinch but Stiles cringed and Lydia gasped in revulsion, clasping her hands over her face. 

An audible pulsing filled the air as Derek's breathing became stronger, slower, deeper. His clammy skin became flushed as fresh blood poured into his circulation and washed over his revitalized organs. After a few moments, it quietened and Stiles withdrew the blade. The neat cut closed almost instantly and they sat in the sudden silence that had filled the room. 

The only noise was their own ragged breathing as their adrenaline slowly began to recede. 

"Bloody hell." Lydia put one manicured hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezed it gently. "That was,,,"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I'll call the others. Let them know Deucalion's dead." 

Lydia took Derek's hand from Stiles and laid it back across his abdomen. Stiles sighed in exhaustion as he went to retrieve his phone. 

Only she saw Derek's fingers curl and stretch as his slumbering self tried to regain its' grasp on Stiles' long fingers. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

When the rest of the pack returned, they carried Derek up to bed. 

Stiles stayed to help scrub the stain that Deucalion had left on the carpet and to keep an eye on Derek, allegedly. He wasn't really worried at this point, Derek looked in pretty good form. He just needed to rest. 

Derek did look in good form. He looked in very good form. Deucalion might've put a twisted spin on things but he could smell things Stiles couldn't. He'd clearly smelled that Derek was attracted to Stiles and Stiles knew that everyone must be able to smell his attraction to Derek. The guy was ripped like a Greek god for crying out loud and he was...he was pretty awesome. 

Derek was kind and nurturing towards his pack, who all raved about what a dedicated Alpha he was. He'd gotten through to each and every one of them, through their insecurities, through their fears. He'd worked them all out with them to make them stronger, more secure people. Stiles couldn't admire him more for that. 

Derek had trusted Stiles the minute they'd met. He'd put not only his own life, but, the life of his whole pack in his faith that Stiles would protect them against a threat he couldn't. That took more guts than Stiles thought he had himself, to admit his own limitations and trust the welfare of all the people he loved to someone he barely knew. But, Derek had needed to do it to protect his pack, which was his job, so that is what he'd done. 

All this he knew, what he knew didn't interest him. There was one unanswered question burning on his mind and only one man he wanted to answer it for him. 

The opportunity arose after a few hours, which felt like days. Stiles didn't hear anything but the whole pack's heads turned towards the stairs as their sensitive ears picked up on whatever Derek had said. Either way he was clearly awake. 

"Erm." Scott smiled sheepishly, his cheeks going red as he turned from his beanbag in front of the TV to face his best friend. "He's calling you." 

Stiles frowned, feigning confusion as he left the rest of the pack and made his way upstairs and along the landing to Derek's room, knocking is knuckles softly against the wood before entering. 

Derek was sitting up in bed, looking tired but fortunately very much alive. Stiles smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to hold Derek's gaze and not let his eyes fall to his impressive and totally bare torso. 

"How are you feeling?" 

Derek beckoned to him but didn't speak. Cautiously, he complied. Once he was in arm's reach, Derek took his wrist in his hand and pulled them together for a tight hug. 

Stiles yelp in surprise, Derek was seriously strong. "You okay, big guy?" 

Derek inhaled deeply against Stiles' shoulder. "Thank you." 

He laughed, rubbing one hand up and down Derek's spine affectionately. "Don't mention it." 

Derek half released him and sat back, bringing them face to face. "How did you even manage it? I was..."

"Dead?" Stiles supplied. "Yeah, but, only a little bit." they both smirked "What can I say? I'm good." 

"You are." He agreed. 

There was a moment's silence where they just sat, casually hanging on to each other’s arms. When Stiles spoke his voice was so quiet it was a wonder even Derek's ears could hear him.

"Promise you won't do it again." He traced a lazy circle on Derek's muscled forearm to distract himself, avoiding his face. "You had me worried."

He didn't see Derek's response, only felt his fingers on his chin as he lifted their eyes to meet again. "One condition." 

Stiles nodded, the drag of Derek's fingers over his skin a little exhilarating. 

"Stay." Stiles didn't ever think he'd hear an Alpha wolf plead. "Move in with us and just use your place to work out of."

Stiles scoffed. "We barely even know-"

"Your Scott's best friend." He reminded him. "We already treat your dad like he's a part of Scott's family. It makes you pack, Stiles, if you want to be."  

An involuntary tug began to pull Stiles' cheeks into a broad grin. It was secretly exactly what he'd always wanted. He'd assumed that he and Scott would live together when they went to college, but, then Stiles' powers came through. He loved his dad, but, he was eighteen. His dad's house hadn't been his home since he was twelve. Derek was offering him what no witch ever could. 

A home. A proper home, where he left to go to work and came back in the evening and someone asked him how his day had been and they ate together and watched the same TV. A place where they chose furniture together and bitched about sharing chores.

It was simple, not something Stiles had ever allowed himself to complain about. He'd lived in luxury homes, flown to almost every country on the globe and was treated like he had blue blood. But, he'd never wanted that. The supremacy was a burden, not a gift. Stiles had handled pressure and fear and responsibility and violence. 

He'd never been able to handle being so alone.

He couldn't speak. His jaw hung open where it rested in one of Derek's hands. Its' partner lifted behind his head and ruffled his hair, breaking the moment. 

"Just think about it, okay?" Derek smiled tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

Of course Stiles moved in. 

When he told Scott what Derek had offered him, his eyes had lit up like a puppy who'd just seen his first snowflake. That had made up Stiles' mind, time and distance had passed between them, but, they were still best friends. The rest of the pack had responded with equal enthusiasm. His dad was a little confused by the sudden change in plans, but pleased nonetheless. 

It was the witches who'd been less keen. Stiles' advisers had all said that moving into the Hale house was going to look like an act of submission, of weakness. They told Stiles that if he wanted a relationship with Derek, people would be fine about that. It wasn't as if the supremacy was inherited familially after all, there had been Supremes before who'd remained single or entered same sex, lifelong relationships. (Stiles could even get married now! He'd be the first non-heterosexual Supreme to do so, they seemed quite excited about that idea.) But, moving under Derek's roof wasn't going to make him look like a strong leader, it would have to wait.

It had taken a while for Stiles to explain that moving in with the pack wasn't about Derek, it was about Scott and Lydia and being a family. They'd looked a little dubious about that, but, it was about 90% true.

Okay, so a small part of Stiles relished the idea of spending more time with Derek, but, he was hardly choosing to move in with him to do so. In the end, he put his foot down and told them that his decisions in his personal life weren't up for discussion. He'd still be contactable 24 hours a day and the Hale house was barely a thirty minute drive.

As for how it looked, Stiles had just killed a demon who was as widely feared as he was known. Add onto that fact that, thanks to Lydia, rumor was spreading like wildfire about how he'd brought Derek back from the dead, allegedly with a barely a shrug of his shoulders. Stiles hadn't corrected anyone on that front. Full resurgence was a talent even Supremes were known to struggle with. Reaching into the void between life and death, where the laws of reality are different, and actually being able to find the soul you want to bring back was no easy feat. 

In short, Stiles was not worried about his reputation. 

Living with the Hales was surprisingly easy. Having the luxury of space and his own car was a massive help, but, he would've loved it regardless. He and Isaac entered into an ongoing competition between just the two of them on the Xbox, he got to talk about politics and other brain-box stuff Lydia was interested in with her, watch TV with Scott and Jackson. Spending quality time with Jackson was a bit weird, but, it was a good weird. 

Derek oversaw all of it with a subtle smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. He hadn't offered Stiles the bite, you didn't need it to be pack and Stiles didn't exactly need the power boost. He threw himself fully into all the pack bonding, learning how to scent mark even though he couldn't really smell it, quickly adapting to the large amount of casual physical contact the pack used to reaffirm their bonds. 

Stiles seemed a little starved on that front. He leaned into every touch as though it was this fantastic new experience he hadn't even known existed, nuzzling into people's hands when they ruffled his hair and lifting his chin so they could rest their head against his neck on the sofa. Derek tried not to enjoy that too much, he didn't want Stiles to think he was going to start humping his leg. 

But, he did like it. A lot. The alpha needed to spend the most time scent marking of all and Stiles was always obliging. He'd slide onto the sofa beside Derek and cuddle up under his arm without being asked. He'd give him a strong bro hug every time they were reunited at the end of day and pat him on the back or shoulder when they passed each other. 

Secretly, Derek enjoyed his bonding time with Stiles more than the others, or at least in a different way. Stiles skin was soft as velvet and smelled of fruity shampoo and boyish testosterone. It was a little intoxicating and more than a little arousing. He knew the rest of the pack could smell that fact, could hear his heart give him away and knew Stiles was responding in kind, but, Stiles couldn't. He remained platonic and unaware that their attraction was mutual. 

Derek had enough self-control to give Stiles a full fortnight to settle into the house and into his new work routine before he fixed the situation. Stiles had just come home with yet another bunch of groceries, the pack ate like no human family could understand and Derek was helping him unload them into the cupboards, manhandling Stiles as they passed in a way that had become commonplace. His enhanced senses meant that he could take a pretty good guess at what Stiles' answer would be, but nevertheless, he ended up panicking and blurting,

"Do you want to go out for dinner on Saturday?" 

Stiles frowned but didn't turn to face him as he tried to stack a dented tin of beans, it kept toppling off. "I thought we were going out for Sunday roast?"

Derek sighed. "The pack is going for Sunday roast. I'm asking if you'd like to get dinner on Saturday with me." This time Stiles turned to face him, a slow smile spreading across his smooth jaw as realization hit. It vanished into blank shock as his latest balancing attempt failed and the tin hit him hard on the head and fell to the floor. 

Stiles looked affronted, but, Derek couldn't help but laugh at his surprised little face. He lifted one hand to rub his thumb pad over the sore spot. Stiles took Derek's hand in his, lowering it to his cheek so he could nuzzle against it.

"I'd like that." he whispered.

Dinner was great, better than great. 

Derek had chosen a little Italian place on the far side of the town. Stiles was a little apprehensive, his Italian wasn’t be best. Derek, on the other hand, had been more than a little impressive, familiar with the food, cooking techniques, wines and language. 

He’d had no idea Derek was so cultured. He wondered how he’d even had time to become so given the trials he’d faced. 

Derek couldn’t get drunk, so wine plus driving wasn’t a problem. Stiles on the other hand, with no immunity and not all the much blood volume, was decidedly tipsy by the time they returned home, their bellies full of what had been a delicious meal of gnocchi.

Derek kept one arm around his waist, holding their bodies together to support him. Stiles leaned into the hold eagerly, leaning in close so his weak nose could get a taste of Derek’s scent. It was rich and masculine in a way Stiles found extremely attractive, but more importantly, it was the smell of Derek. 

Anything and everything Derek made Stiles feel both calmly safe and exhilaratingly aroused all at once. 

The pack practically pounced on them as they came through the door. Eager anticipation on their faces. At the sight of the intertwined couple, they broke into broad, innocent smiles. 

“Have a nice night?” Scott tried to sound nonchalant, but, his delight was evident. 

Derek gave Stiles a squeeze and kissed the top of his head. He pressed his own lips to Derek’s strong neck before answering. 

“Yeah.” He grinned.

“So,” Lydia’s eyes were wide, hopeful. “You’re gonna keep…dating and whatever?” 

He laughed. They were being rooted for so hard, it was lucky they were just as keen themselves or else it would’ve been extremely awkward. 

He and Derek answered this one together. 

“Absolutely.” 


End file.
